Dearest Rebecca,

In February of 2025 we remember it has been a year since your smiling face and inspirational personality left us. I write you from in the airport and in the plane, while your family and friends are planting a tree in Ramat Gan and worked in the garden in Sa’ad in your memory. It is also the day your parents meet one of the people that are alive and well because you donated your organs.

My letter to you is in English, because I now realise people all over the country want to read about you and the legacy you leave behind.

Rebecca, I am so proud of you and the inspiration you left behind. Not often does one meet someone that is both super smart, funny, kind, sporty, communicative and beautifull.

You are gone and I can hardly believe it. Seeing your grave helps, hearing stories about you helps, telling people about you helps.

Still I am sad. So sad we will not get to see more of your direct impact on creating more peace in Israël. I really believed you were one of the people with the right mix of skills, personality and brainpower to being people together and create solutions that go beyond our current imagination.

As one of your moms cousins I would like to share three memories of you.

1. My first memory of you – Books
Our grandmother was lovingly called Moene, since your mom gave her that nickname as oldest grandchild. When Moene died it was very busy at the funeral. As grandkids we gave up our seats and were smushed together against a wall near the front. You were there as the eldest and only? great grandchild of seven years old. When I looked how you managed to hang in there during the long wait and all the speeches it turned out you were reading a book. Not just any book, but you were eagerly reading a children’s encyclopedia cover to cover. I was instantly impressed with you and curious what life would bring you.

When your mother tidied up your room (a few weeks before you passed away and we knew nothing of what was ahead) I was lucky enough to get that encyclopedia for my kids. I also got a huge pile of cool books for teenagers to give to my boys. One of your favorite series, that my boys also read many times was about ‘the grey hunter’ (Rangers Apprentice by John Flanagan). You told them that was quite a good description of what you do in the army. You learn to hide or move in a way that no one can see or hear you. Then you gather information and puzzle it together to create intelligence. This way you can act wisely and prevent unnecessary casualties.

2. Memory about ‘Gardens and Grandchildren’
In memory of that same ancester Moene, I love the colourful plants your friends put on your grave and that so many trees and plants will grow in your memory. Moene loved gardening and was so proud when you were born. Moene lived in our house for ten years and we had created a huge picture frame for her where she could look at lots of pictures of her children and grandchildren at the same time. However, since you were born she would replace them with pictures of you and the other great grandchildren. I soon stopped changing them back, because clearly she was so crazy about you and the others little ones. Maybe even more than gardening?!

Which brings me to the point where my eyes get wet and why I could not write about you sooner. Last time I hung out with you in Israël was when we visited by brother together, because his second child had been born in May 2023. I was there for a few days getting to know both boys. But when you came in it was like the sun started shining. You won the hart of the eldest so much quicker and seemingly effortless. Your ability to make faces was a huge hit. But ofcourse you also read books, and came up with wild games to run throughout the house or chase baloons.

Last friday your sister came over and did the same when she met the two brothers. I laughed because of all the funny faces she made to her cousins and felt like crying at the same time. I felt that same silly feeling of ‘jealousy’, because you both have such a natural gift to connect with kids. And that similarity hit me and my brother off guard.

If you wanted to have kids, we would have loved for you and the one you chose to love to one day have babies and grandchildren of your own. We wanted to play with them, see you in them and see you as the coolest auntie to Asher and Margalith’s kids, as I am sure you would have been. We hoped you might experience the joy of turning your parents into grandparents, like you brought joy to your grandparents.

3. My last memory of you – Bus
I want to end by symbolically talking about our last busride together. After you slept over at my brother’s house, in a way that only Israeli relatives could do, completely relaxed within the first week after a birth, we travelled together to Tel Aviv and you helped me find my bus to Haifa. Trains didn’t run due to an electricity problem and some rockets were being fired at Tel Aviv. You were all relaxed about everything, so I was too. Like I was one of your ‘babies’ and you were my ‘madricha’, you explained to me how to use the Moovit app and take a different train or bus if something went wrong along the way and I could not follow the plan you made me. I liked realising that you were now so grown up, that I was not caring for you, but you were caring for me, even though I was twice your age. You asked lots of questions, but also shared your life. You told me about your tattoo that said ‘zakmes’ (pocketknife). How a madrich once told you that no matter what happens you always have a mental swiss pocketknife, and it will help you solve whatever problem you are in. You told me about a long multi day hike on a dangerous trail abroad you wanted to do and the math you wanted to study. About your new room in Tel Aviv. It felt like I gained a friend. I learned from Omer who spoke at your grave that you give many people that feeling. What a precious gift.

Sweet Rebecca,
To sum it all up:
– We have your pocketknife in mind. I even bought my self a bright pink one in memory of you and always have it in my bag.
– We know your motto ‘not to be afraid of anything’.
– We have almost 25 years of memories to cherish.
– You would be amazed at how many people know your story on the streets of Israël. We put up extra stickers with your picture and a QR code leading to this site. Many people that saw your picture responded with ‘I know her, she is Dutch!’. And we smiled.

We are thankful for all those things, really. Still, it is just so hard and so weird to live our lives without you. I wish the swiss pocketknife metaphor with all it’s tools would provide more answers on how to deal with trauma.

Untill we find those answers we will keep walking with one step at a time, planting, reading, laughing, hugging your family and keeping your memory alive.

Liefs,
Es

Esther

Amsterdam